


Born To Be

by Haicrescendo



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, backdated work, just a touch of precognition in this house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29175417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haicrescendo/pseuds/Haicrescendo
Summary: [The first time Estellise Sidos Heurassein heard drums, she was five years old and Daddy was on his knees.It was time for her to go, he said. Wouldn't it be nice? She'd get to live in a big, beautiful castle, and it would be full of people for her to play with, ad she'd get to be a princess. Maybe, when she was older, she might even be Empress. Wouldn't that just be lovely, Estellise?]Or,A series of moments just before impact.(Original date of publishing: October 7, 2012.)
Kudos: 7





	Born To Be

**Author's Note:**

> I’m currently working on transferring my Tales Of Vesperia fics over to my AO3 account. This is an older work. ♥️

* * *

  
The first time Estellise Sidos Heurassein heard drums, she was five years old and Daddy was on his knees.

It was time for her to go, he said. Wouldn't it be nice? She'd get to live in a big, beautiful castle, and it would be full of people for her to play with, and she'd get to be a princess. Maybe, when she was older, she might even be Empress. Wouldn't that just be lovely, Estellise?

 _Of course!_ She remembered saying, _That sounds like so much fun! You and me and Mama all living in a castle together_.

Because when she was five, Estellise Sidos Heurassein wasn't rich but she wasn't poor either, but sometimes Mama had to sew her dresses instead of buy them, and when Estellise tried to help and got it wrong, Mama shouted and told her to go outside and play instead. They always had enough to eat but that was because Daddy and the other townspeople went out and hunted for it, and when he got a lot, he shared it with the rest of the town, because _they_ weren't poor but they weren't rich either. Mama said that they were nobles and that was why she would rather buy everything than make it, because that was how you showed that you were important.

When the words were out of her mouth, Estellise heard drums, loud and synching with her heartbeat.

The smile on Daddy's face slipped and Estellise didn't know why, but she was scared. The drums were loud and she was afraid.

 _I'm sorry, Estellise_ , he said, _But Mama and I aren't coming with you. There's only room for you at the castle._

But that didn't make sense, Estelle tried to tell him, because castles were big and full of people, and of course it would have room for just two more! And they couldn't possibly send her there alone. She needed them—

_You'll have lots of people to care for you, and pretty dresses. Wouldn't you like that?_

Of course she would, but little girls don't go and live in new places without their parents!

 _But what about you?_ She asked, _What about my garden? And Mama was going to show me how to sew._

_Don't you worry about that; the grown-ups in Zaphias said that if you'll come and live at the castle, they'll give us enough that Mama won't have to sew for herself, and I won't have to go hunting. None of the villagers will. No one will get hurt anymore, leaving the barrier. We'll come and visit you all the time, Estellise, there's no need to be afraid._

And how could that be anything but good? Estellise had seen people come back from trips covered in blood and bandages and it always made her sad and scared. She didn't want to go alone, but if that meant that Daddy wouldn't get hurt again…

Estellise ignored the drums and nodded her head and that night, Estellise Sidos Heurassein was trundled into a big, silver carriage and never saw either of her parents again.

* * *

The second time that Estellise Sidos Heurassein heard drums, she was twelve years old and hunkered down at the entrance to the armory.

It was the one that nobody used anymore (she knew that because for the last week, she'd hovered around the corner in her free time and watched to see if anyone went in, and aside from a routine dusting, no one so much as touched it) and Estellise was determined to get in there even though she was pretty sure that it was probably locked.

Why did she have to sit through etiquette lessons, anyway? Why did it matter if she knew the difference between what it meant to be sent a bouquet of red roses versus one of daisies, and how to properly reject an offer of marriage? She wasn't getting married anytime soon and when she did, it wasn't like she'd get to choose who it was, anyway.

Suddenly sour, Estellise scowled at the floor and kicked the stone hallway, rather vindicated when a scuff appeared on her white shoes.

They wouldn't let her choose who she wanted to marry, they wouldn't let her touch a weapon, they wouldn't even let her wear pants.

According to her maids, she was experiencing what was known as common teenage rebellion.

She kicked the wall again.

A knight rounded the corner and turned away and Estelle shifted to peer at his back, sticking her tongue out at him when she was sure he hadn't seen her. If her calculations were correct (and they were), there wouldn't be another soul coming around for exactly fifteen minutes. That would be plenty of time for her to slip in there and smuggle a blade back to her bedroom.

Quick as a flash, she darted to the door and jiggled the handle, pleased and relieved when the bolt slid open. Who would expect the Imperial Princess to be down here anyway, even if she was notorious for slipping her guards? They'd always check the library first and for good reason.

Estellise made sure to close the door behind her and surveyed the room.

There were swords everywhere! How was she supposed to know which one would be best for her? They were all so big (some were even bigger and taller than she was) and Estellise just looked around for a couple of minutes to see what was there and what she could feasibly take.

The really big ones were out but she recognized the ones that the knights used, with a big, sharp blade and a simple hilt. They looked the simplest, anyway, and she passed on the whip thin sword with the ornate handle in favor of hefting one of the knight swords in her hand. It was heavy and she needed both hands to lift it, but somehow, holding it made her feel strong.

Estellise didn't remember the last time it happened but suddenly she could hear the pounding of drums in her head, so loud and heavy that she thought she might drown in them. She liked this sword, she decided, and this would be the one she'd take, the one she'd keep, the one she'd use.

She'd be strong with this, she decided, the strongest ever so that she could protect herself.

As strong as a knight.

Estellise somehow made it back to her room without being seen (and wouldn't she just be a sight, hauling around a sword almost as big as she was?) and she heaved the blade onto her bed, content to lock the door and stare at it for a good, long while, before stuffing it underneath her mattress.

The drums continued.

Oh, she would be in so much trouble if anyone found out about this, Estellise knew. Her instructors would assign her lines for days.

Well, she just wouldn't let anyone find out, then.

It wasn't until after dinner that she had to time to pull the sword out and hold it again. They'd leave her be for hours, because Estellise had been putting herself to bed for years now, and the servants worked hard enough without having to stay longer to make sure that she'd run her bath and put on her pajamas. They'd remake the bed in the morning no matter how neatly she did it, though, and she couldn't keep her contraband under the mattress forever, so after a moment of thought, she decided that the best home for a stolen sword would be inside the dresses for the fall festivals, eight months away from now.

Those were at the very back of her wardrobe and nestled inside layers and layers of silk and taffeta and tulle, how could it be anything but safe?

Pleased with herself, Estellise reached down to pick up her skirt, fisting the fabric in her hands to knot it at her thighs. She had to get her hands on some pants, even if she had to cut apart the curtains to do it. With a shake of her head, she picked up her blade.

It was still as heavy as it had been earlier but she was expecting it this time, and it wasn't quite so hard to raise it above her head and give it an experimental swing. She was expecting the weight but not the force with which it came down, and she ended up dropping it to the floor with a clatter. Well, that still wasn't really a surprise, she thought, and shrugged before leaning down to pick it up again.

And for a while, that was how it went. Estellise would go through her day with all of her classes, etiquette and charms and all the things she didn't really need to know, and at night when her time was hers, she'd try her best to practice with her sword.

She got better at lifting it, at swinging it, and put more than one nick in the legs of her bed frame, and she thought she was getting better overall even though she'd do anything for real training.

So it made sense, in retrospect, that after a few weeks of this, she got a little bit cocky, a little bit complacent.

One wrong move (and oh, it was a wrong move) and the blade was dropping, and she didn't _think_ before reaching out instinctively to catch it, nestling it firmly against her side.

It didn't hurt until suddenly it _did_ , and Estellise looked down to see red painting her palms and a spreading stain where the blade cut into her ribs, and she couldn't fight back the spike of panic that shot through her. She could heal, she could, she could—

Except that right now, she was so afraid and panic was settling into her bones and all Estellise could think was that everyone was going to think someone had snuck in and killed her, never guessing that she had done this to herself, and someone would eventually die for it. She didn't realize that she was crying until she let the sword drop like she should have in the first place and clasped her hands to the wound.

She couldn't think straight, couldn't remember how it felt to heal, couldn't remember how to stitch skin and muscle and bone back together and the red was spreading, dripping onto the floor, and it was going to look like she'd been murdered instead of stupid.

She didn't realize that she'd been screaming bloody murder either until the door was being broken down and suddenly her bedroom was full of knights, knights who were all hollering for a healer. She remembered being picked up and carried (carried!) down stairs and into the infirmary, and the last thing she saw before she passed out was the face of someone dressed all in white and the only thing she could hear was blurred words that she couldn't figure out.

When Estellise awoke, she was informed that when she had recuperated properly, she was to begin attending swordsmanship training with the finest captains and fitted with an _appropriate_ blade.

Somehow, even with all the residual pain and embarrassment at having nearly gutted herself and the bandages wrapped around her middle, Estellise couldn't help but feel like she'd won.

* * *

The third time Estellise Sidos Heurassein heard drums, she was fifteen and had just come face to face with Flynn Scifo. He was anxious and fidgety and nervous and so was she, because she'd never met a knight so young.

Older than her, certainly, but lacking the finesse of Alexei and the silkiness of Captain Schwann, like a half-grown colt.

And he _looked_ at her.

She certainly didn't lack for knights around the castle, but Estellise wondered where they found Flynn Scifo because she'd only just met him and she could tell he was different, all shiny armor and neatly brushed hair but something about him was new that she couldn't pin down and Estellise was interested.

Flynn Scifo was bright and successful and strong and was eventually going to be a captain if he kept on like he was, she was told, and it was high time he met the Imperial Princess. Estellise knew what that meant. Put on the face, curtsy and nod when appropriate, and basically do everything she could to be regal. And, well, she could do that.

Actually, she did do that, quite well in fact under normal circumstances, except that she couldn't this time.

Not with Flynn who was new and different and she didn't know what it was, but she wanted to know. What did she want to know?

_Everything._

So she threw away protocol and propriety and for the first time in a very _long_ time, reached out a hand that might eventually touch something like friendship. It went against everything anyone told her, even her parents whom she pretended not to remember, to do such a thing. Because she was bigger and Flynn Scifo was smaller and his was his job to protect her, not to be her friend. And it wasn't her job to be his.

It wasn't to her to even consider.

Nevertheless, that first day, Estellise stepped off of the throne that was beautiful and cold and bypassed the knights to offer her arm to Flynn Scifo, cocking her head and asking if he might possibly consider escorting her to the library. The library was where she learned, and she had every intention of learning about Flynn Scifo. He looked terrified but after a few seconds of staring helplessly, reached out to gently wrap his fingers around her lower arm.

She led him that time, because he didn't quite know his way around yet, and Estellise felt a thrill of pride that maybe, maybe, she had something to offer him.

People around her would make it harder for her when they realized just what she wanted, but she couldn't make herself care.

Estellise wanted to know everything.

Estellise Sidos Heurassein wanted to know everything and she soaked up Flynn Scifo's stuttering words and used her smiles to make them strong. She took every scrap of information he gave her and boxed it away to be sorted through and cherished later with every memory and summer day and thunderstorm.

 _Please, tell me what you are. What makes you different?_ She never had the courage to ask him, because she was more afraid of him laughing at her or thinking that she was stupid than almost anything else.

And Estellise made the decision (her instructors _hated_ it when she made decisions) that she wanted him to stay, and that was new because she'd long accepted that she was pretty much destined for eternal solitude at this point.

And in the end, just like with pants and swordsmanship, Estellise got her way.

Flynn Scifo stayed and he continued to be a delightful sort of mystery that she couldn't figure out, even though he didn't stutter around her anymore and Estellise would even go so far as to call him a friend, even though she'd never had a friend before and didn't really know the protocol for this.

She didn't have much to give him but it seemed to be enough for him, because one day he was escorting her to the training yards (even though she said he didn't have to and he said that he most certainly did) and he muttered under his breath something about someone named Yuri.

And there they were, the drums that she felt in her blood like her heartbeat, the drums that led to good things and bad things but more importantly, led to change.

Estellise _liked_ change.

And so, Estellise Sidos Heurassein cocked her head and tapped Flynn Scifo on the arm to ask,

_Who's Yuri?_

* * *

The fourth time that Estellise Sidos Heurassein heard drums, she preferred being called Estelle and wore pants under her skirts almost all the time (pants that she hadn't had to make out of curtains outside of that one time not long after she'd nearly killed herself) and fought and healed like she breathed.

She was standing by herself in Myorzo and felt a tap on her shoulder, and seconds later heard the pounding of drums, a vibration in her heart that quivered like a bowstring strung.

They hadn't ever been this loud, not when she met Yuri and not when she prayed to the tree of Halure and not when she looked at Pharaoh and he called her poison.

Nevertheless, Estelle pushed them away and turned to face Raven, looking him straight in the eyes and later, so much later, he would wonder why she had smiled at him even while she looked about to cry.

* * *


End file.
